Fic: Kisses and Lies
I finally finished my fic! It's been an interesting few days while I worked on it, but I'm pretty darn happy with it now.
I wanted to challenge myself, firstly to write AT ALL after the huge drought that was 2006, and secondly to focus on details and capturing the emotion of a moment. So this fic does focus on moments, not even whole scenes but snippets of scenes - a line or two long at the most - to see if I could do it. I'm not sure how successful I was, but it certainly was a great challenge anyway.
Title: Kisses and Lies
Summary: Five times Kate didn't hate Sawyer, even though she should
Pairing: Kate/Sawyer, obviously
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Only up to The Long Con
Disclaimer: Not mine. It all belongs to ABC, Touchstone, JJ Abrams and all of those guys. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks so much to liljames for his suggestions and support as I dragged this fic kicking and screaming into the world.
I
It was only a kiss.
He was a selfish manipulating bastard who used a girl’s ability to breathe as leverage, but it was still only a kiss.
They had tortured him. He was contorted on the ground, his hair drenched with blood and sweat, and she was sickened by the sight. It was savage. She had to end it, but her skin prickled at the thought. The words of the letter came to her again, and with them came the sickening knowledge that he savoured it. He had killed a kid’s parents, and he carried the proof with him like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Perhaps he didn’t deserve to be saved.
Then his mask slipped. All the confidence slipped away, and she saw insecurity flash in his eyes. For the briefest of moments, he actually looked afraid. It was like a knife twisting in her chest.
“Okay,” she said.
After all, it was only a kiss.
II
I never killed a man.
It wasn’t a question. He knew.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. The challenge burned from his eyes, and there was something decidedly self-satisfied about the curl of his lips. He wanted her to admit to it. He wanted to become a part of her secret.
She hesitated, just for a moment, as she realised that she hadn’t been this close to the truth with anyone since that night. A part of her suddenly wanted to be. She wanted him to understand.
Slowly, purposefully, she raised the bottle to her lips.
He sat motionless for a moment longer, and then raised his own bottle. Him too, then. She looked away.
III
She stood by the fireside, alone except for the man on the other side of the flames.
He wouldn’t apologise. He didn’t care that her friends looked at her with ‘criminal’ in their eyes, or that he was the only one willing to accept the truth about her. He had destroyed everything, but he would never say he was sorry.
As she watched him turn away, she found that she couldn’t even blame him for it. If the situation had been reversed, she would have done exactly the same thing. And yet… she needed to know why. Why he had fought her, why he was leaving, why he had pulled her in and pushed her away.
She shouted after him, and he stopped, turned. For a moment, he seemed lost for words, considering her through the darkness.
“Cause there ain’t anything on this island worth staying for,” he finally said.
She held his gaze for a long moment, taking in every detail of his face. His mouth remained set, but his eyes sparked with regret.
“Be safe, Sawyer.”
They both knew she meant goodbye.
IV
He was supposed to be a hero.
He had sailed away to save them all, and she had never expected to see him again. Yet somehow he was back, collapsed in the shower on the edge of death, forcing her to embrace his existence once again.
Was this what heroism really was? Not sailing into the sunset, but lying helpless on the floor with a swollen gunshot wound and the certainty that you are going to die? She felt tears sting in her eyes as she looked at him, the man with all the swagger torn away.
She knew she should be doing something, but she couldn’t move. If she looked away, even for a moment, he would be gone forever. Bastard had sailed away without even saying goodbye, and now he dared to return alone with a gunshot wound in his shoulder, threatening to die. He had always been so confident, giving the impression that he was invincible, and seeing him this way was like a terrible dream. He couldn’t die like this.
“Kate!”
She snapped back to attention and turned to run. He had already left once without saying goodbye. He wasn’t going to get away with it again.
V
He had betrayed her.
He had betrayed her, and he didn't care. She had confronted him, and he just sat, cleaning his gun like it meant more to him than anything else in the world.
It meant more to him than she did.
What stung the most was that should have expected this. He was a con man, a manipulative bastard who would do absolutely anything to get ahead. She had known from the very first moment that she should stay away, but she’d given into his attentions anyway, found herself connecting with him, caring about him. She had shown him weakness, and this was the result.
“I don’t think this has anything to do with guns,” she said, her mind reeling from kisses and lies and secrets in the dark. “Or with getting your stash back. I think you want people to hate you!”
He looked down at the gun in his hands and smiled.
“Good thing you don’t hate me, Freckles.”
I wanted to challenge myself, firstly to write AT ALL after the huge drought that was 2006, and secondly to focus on details and capturing the emotion of a moment. So this fic does focus on moments, not even whole scenes but snippets of scenes - a line or two long at the most - to see if I could do it. I'm not sure how successful I was, but it certainly was a great challenge anyway.
Title: Kisses and Lies
Summary: Five times Kate didn't hate Sawyer, even though she should
Pairing: Kate/Sawyer, obviously
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Only up to The Long Con
Disclaimer: Not mine. It all belongs to ABC, Touchstone, JJ Abrams and all of those guys. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks so much to liljames for his suggestions and support as I dragged this fic kicking and screaming into the world.
I
It was only a kiss.
He was a selfish manipulating bastard who used a girl’s ability to breathe as leverage, but it was still only a kiss.
They had tortured him. He was contorted on the ground, his hair drenched with blood and sweat, and she was sickened by the sight. It was savage. She had to end it, but her skin prickled at the thought. The words of the letter came to her again, and with them came the sickening knowledge that he savoured it. He had killed a kid’s parents, and he carried the proof with him like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Perhaps he didn’t deserve to be saved.
Then his mask slipped. All the confidence slipped away, and she saw insecurity flash in his eyes. For the briefest of moments, he actually looked afraid. It was like a knife twisting in her chest.
“Okay,” she said.
After all, it was only a kiss.
II
I never killed a man.
It wasn’t a question. He knew.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. The challenge burned from his eyes, and there was something decidedly self-satisfied about the curl of his lips. He wanted her to admit to it. He wanted to become a part of her secret.
She hesitated, just for a moment, as she realised that she hadn’t been this close to the truth with anyone since that night. A part of her suddenly wanted to be. She wanted him to understand.
Slowly, purposefully, she raised the bottle to her lips.
He sat motionless for a moment longer, and then raised his own bottle. Him too, then. She looked away.
III
She stood by the fireside, alone except for the man on the other side of the flames.
He wouldn’t apologise. He didn’t care that her friends looked at her with ‘criminal’ in their eyes, or that he was the only one willing to accept the truth about her. He had destroyed everything, but he would never say he was sorry.
As she watched him turn away, she found that she couldn’t even blame him for it. If the situation had been reversed, she would have done exactly the same thing. And yet… she needed to know why. Why he had fought her, why he was leaving, why he had pulled her in and pushed her away.
She shouted after him, and he stopped, turned. For a moment, he seemed lost for words, considering her through the darkness.
“Cause there ain’t anything on this island worth staying for,” he finally said.
She held his gaze for a long moment, taking in every detail of his face. His mouth remained set, but his eyes sparked with regret.
“Be safe, Sawyer.”
They both knew she meant goodbye.
IV
He was supposed to be a hero.
He had sailed away to save them all, and she had never expected to see him again. Yet somehow he was back, collapsed in the shower on the edge of death, forcing her to embrace his existence once again.
Was this what heroism really was? Not sailing into the sunset, but lying helpless on the floor with a swollen gunshot wound and the certainty that you are going to die? She felt tears sting in her eyes as she looked at him, the man with all the swagger torn away.
She knew she should be doing something, but she couldn’t move. If she looked away, even for a moment, he would be gone forever. Bastard had sailed away without even saying goodbye, and now he dared to return alone with a gunshot wound in his shoulder, threatening to die. He had always been so confident, giving the impression that he was invincible, and seeing him this way was like a terrible dream. He couldn’t die like this.
“Kate!”
She snapped back to attention and turned to run. He had already left once without saying goodbye. He wasn’t going to get away with it again.
V
He had betrayed her.
He had betrayed her, and he didn't care. She had confronted him, and he just sat, cleaning his gun like it meant more to him than anything else in the world.
It meant more to him than she did.
What stung the most was that should have expected this. He was a con man, a manipulative bastard who would do absolutely anything to get ahead. She had known from the very first moment that she should stay away, but she’d given into his attentions anyway, found herself connecting with him, caring about him. She had shown him weakness, and this was the result.
“I don’t think this has anything to do with guns,” she said, her mind reeling from kisses and lies and secrets in the dark. “Or with getting your stash back. I think you want people to hate you!”
He looked down at the gun in his hands and smiled.
“Good thing you don’t hate me, Freckles.”